In the week following the intense battle, Noah had dedicated himself to securing City Island. The once chaotic place was now mostly clear of monsters, and the survivors, cautiously optimistic, began trickling into what was rapidly becoming a safe haven. With every swing of his scythe, Noah had wiped out the remaining threats, ensuring that this island would be a sanctuary. The work had been exhausting, but necessary.
City Island's natural defenses made it an ideal refuge. Surrounded by water, it was difficult for monsters to access without crossing the sea. The scattered boats docked on the shores were a lifeline, not only allowing survivors to reach the island but offering the potential for fishing—a resource that could sustain the growing community and even spark trade.
Noah, scanning the quiet horizon, stowed his scythe into his inventory with a swipe of his hand. He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up with a faint glow.
Less than 24 hours left…
His eyes lingered on the screen for a moment before lifting to take in the town around him. What had been a desolate, abandoned place just a week ago was now slowly coming back to life.
A group of children ran through the streets, their laughter cutting through the eerie quiet that had once dominated the area. They dodged between the legs of a tall, bearded man trying to repair a broken storefront window.
"Hey, slow down, you little rascals!" the man shouted with a laugh, though he didn't seem too upset.
The children giggled, their eyes bright, as they dashed off, waving sticks in the air as if they were swords. One of the boys, a kid no older than ten, looked back over his shoulder, catching Noah's eye.
"Look, it's the hero!" he shouted to his friends, pointing excitedly at Noah.
The others stopped, wide-eyed, before breaking into whispers.
"Is it true he took down all those monsters by himself?"
"Yeah, my mom said he saved everyone…"
Noah sighed, shifting his attention back to the phone in his hand. He wasn't interested in playing the hero. He had simply done what needed to be done.
A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
"They look up to you, you know."
Noah turned to see Emily standing a few steps away, a small smile on her face. She was dressed simply, her hair caught in the soft sea breeze, and in her hands, she held a basket filled with fruits from a nearby grove.
"....."
He didn't reply, simply offering a half-hearted wave as he continued walking past her.
Emily fell into step beside him, her smile fading slightly but still present.
"It's nice, though, isn't it? The town, I mean."
Noah glanced around. People were starting to rebuild. A group of women sat together, patching up clothes while their children played nearby. An older man was repairing a fishing net, his hands moving with practiced ease. Two younger boys stood at the water's edge, skipping stones across the surface, competing to see who could get the most skips.
"It's peaceful," Emily said, her voice soft as she watched the scene unfold. "After everything we've been through, it's almost hard to believe…"
Noah's eyes moved over the town. Women walking with baskets of supplies, men exchanging jokes as they built new structures, and children who didn't seem to know the horrors of the world outside these shores. For a moment, it almost felt like the life they'd lost—the one before the apocalypse—was still within reach.
But Noah knew better. This was just a reprieve.
"It feels really nice, doesn't it?"
Emily repeated, turning to face him fully now, her eyes searching his face.
Noah's response was the same as before: silence. He kept walking, raising his hand in a gesture of acknowledgment, but his mind was elsewhere. He knew what was coming. This peace… it wouldn't last.
He continued down the narrow street, the buildings casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun. The laughter of children still echoed in the background, but it felt distant.
A little girl, no older than six, ran by with a flower crown in her hands, her face beaming.
"Mama! Look what I made!"
She cried, holding it up proudly to a woman who sat on the steps of a half-repaired house.
Her mother looked up, her face tired but smiling. "It's beautiful, sweetheart," she said, pulling her daughter into a gentle hug.
Noah watched the scene unfold from the corner of his eye, his steps slowing ever so slightly.
Peace, huh?
He kept walking, his back to the town, as the sounds of life began to fade into the distance. His thoughts drifted to what lay ahead—what always lay ahead. The monsters would return. They always did. And when they did, this fragile peace would shatter.
Maybe it was better not to get too attached.
The salty sea breeze filled his lungs again, but this time it carried a weight with it. He could feel it—a storm was coming. Not a literal one, but something darker, something that would tear apart this fragile moment of peace.
Emily's voice floated back to him one more time. "You're always so distant, Noah. It wouldn't hurt to enjoy this while it lasts."
Noah didn't turn around. He kept walking, his eyes on the horizon, where the sky met the sea.
Yeah, it's not bad at all...
Maybe for now, he'd allow himself to believe it. But deep down, he knew that nothing good ever lasted in this world. His steps grew quieter as he moved further away, the shadow of a faint smile pulling at the edges of his lips.
As Noah walked further, the sounds of the bustling town behind him slowly faded, replaced by the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore. He found a secluded part of the island, away from the growing settlement, where the remnants of an old lighthouse stood tall. Its rusted metal and crumbling stone were a stark contrast to the newfound hope blossoming elsewhere on the island.
This was where he felt most comfortable—alone, at the edge of the world.
The lighthouse had clearly seen better days. Its structure, once a beacon for sailors navigating the treacherous waters, was now a relic of a time long gone. Moss crept up its sides, and broken glass littered the ground, remnants of its shattered windows. Noah made his way to the top, climbing the winding staircase with ease, his hand brushing against the cold metal railing. From the top, the view was breathtaking—City Island lay below him like a painting, the ocean stretching endlessly in every direction, the sun dipping low on the horizon.
This was his place to think, to breathe, away from the eyes of those who saw him as a hero.
As the sun set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Noah sat on the edge of the lighthouse, letting his legs dangle over the side. His mind wandered back to the survivors. He knew they were trying to rebuild, to cling to the hope that this island could be their new home. But Noah had seen too much to believe in such a dream. He had spent ten long years in the wasteland after the cataclysm, watching hope die over and over again.
The laughter of the children, the optimism of the adults—it all felt fragile, like glass ready to shatter at the first sign of danger.
A soft rustling behind him drew his attention. Emily had followed him, though he wasn't surprised. She had a way of finding him no matter where he went.
"You always disappear to the highest point, don't you?"
She said, her voice cutting through the silence as she approached.
Noah didn't respond immediately. He simply stared out at the horizon, watching the last slivers of sunlight dip below the waves.
Emily sat down beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest as she watched the sunset too. For a long while, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the distant crashing of waves and the soft whistle of the wind.
"You know," she began softly, "I think it's okay to feel hope. Even if it's fleeting."
Noah glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her silhouette bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. He could see the weight of the world in her expression—the same burden they all carried—but there was also a flicker of something else. Hope, perhaps. A spark he hadn't felt in a long time.
He turned back to the ocean. "Hope's dangerous," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind.
Emily smiled faintly, not deterred by his cynicism.
"Maybe. But without it, what's the point of surviving?"
Noah didn't have an answer to that. He knew she was right, in a way. But the things he had seen—the monsters, the betrayals, the endless cycle of death and despair—had buried that part of him deep. He wasn't sure if he could dig it up again.
"Not everyone's like you," she continued. "Not everyone can just… keep going without something to hold on to. They need hope. Even if it's dangerous."
Noah sighed, leaning back on his hands as he stared up at the darkening sky.
"I just don't want them to get too comfortable. This peace… it won't last."
Emily nodded, her gaze fixed on the ocean.
"I know. But maybe that's why we should enjoy it while it's here."
For a moment, Noah considered her words. He thought of the children playing in the streets, the families beginning to rebuild their lives, the sense of community forming despite the chaos around them. Maybe they were all foolish to think this could last, but maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.
The wind picked up, sending a chill through the air as the last light of day disappeared. Noah stood, offering Emily a hand to help her up. She accepted, and together they made their way back down the lighthouse, leaving behind the fading sunset and the fragile hope it represented.